Broken Strings
by Blame-It-On-The-Alcohol
Summary: 'Mirrors lie. People lie. The crystals that replace our eyes lie. Only pain can be trusted.' Mimi Vyne was scared of death, and she paid the price. For The Color Challenge at Caesar's Palace: Green and the October Starvation Prompt: Mutilate.


**This one-shot is for two of VividlyVisceral's prompts: 'Green' in The Color Challenge in Caesar's Palace, and 'Mutilate' for the October Starvation prompt. Welcome to 'Broken Strings.'**

**Kara x**

_**~Broken Strings~**_

_Mirrors lie. People lie. The crystals that replace our eyes lie. Only pain can be trusted._

She stands; regal in posture, mysterious in looks, sceptical in gaze as her forever motionless form that almost seems alive stares me down. _Who is she?_

A twitch of a finger breathes life into this perfect likeness of a human; they copy my actions as if we were puppets pulled from the same string. No, it's not a perfect likeness-there's something missing; that spark of emotion in their eyes. _Puppet_ is a good word for this creature.

_Puppets…obedient thoughtless puppets…those are what they want, and what they want they **always **get…they're the puppeteers…and we never did manage to cut our strings, did we? The knife will never fall into our fabric fingers or grace our bloodless throats…not whilst they pull or cut our strings at will…pure glee in their cold eyes._

In curiosity, I smile warmly at this semantic human, and through the crystal partition its sewed lips curl into a lifeless reciprocation that sends shivers down my spine. _What have they done to her? Her skin is flawless but what lies underneath has been clearly tortured beyond repair- I hope I never have to go through whatever that poor soul has suffered._

Leaving her baleful colourless eyes out of my sight but scorched into my young memory, I sigh contentedly then stop dead. _Today is my twelfth birthday…next week it's the Reapings, and I might be picked…I'd never survive! Ever! Papa's already told me I'm worthless…_

_Best not to focus on that now, Mimi. Go and clean yourself up; Papa and Step-Mama and Paddy will be waiting for you. They'll be back from their fishing trip any moment now._

It flits through my mind whether I dreamt up the soulless statue-I always was a precociously imaginative child-but my mirror distracts me. Yes, that's me; lanky 12-year-old girl with frizzy auburn waves, olive skin and the only thing I would never change about me, given the chance; my bright, hopeful green eyes. My mother used to say they spark of youth and innocence. I think so too. In my absent-mindedness I'm idiotic enough to blink, and stifle a scream at my action.

_I don't blink. Blinking my emerald eyes warps everything._

When they reopen, that puppet with the colourless crystal eyes is staring at me again. It's very disconcerting. Convincing myself it's _just a trick of the light, just your imagination, don't be silly, Mimi, of course it's not real_-I swat at the vision, but my hand just meets icy crystal, as does the ghostly being's tailored cloth fingers. I angrily thrust my palms downward, aggravated, and that puppet follows my actions.

_Wait…what?_

Confused, I speak honeyed words with my youthful tongue, and the puppet repeats them exactly as I speak them, as if we shared a brain-but her voice is like a reanimated corpse. _It's dead-puppets are dead!_

_Dead! They stopped breathing long ago…_

_…So why does this shell of a tormented being still glare into my soul, like I'm responsible for its endless pain…then look away, like it's ashamed at itself...?_

Shifting focus changes the puppet back into me and I breathe a sigh of relief. Me, with my hair like tangled fire and tall stature and hopeful green eyes…

_…My eyes! They're colourless! And crystal! Just like the puppet!_

_Vision blurs…the crystal partition changes into a mirror, but the puppet's still there…flawless cloth skin, mocking crystal eyes…but cracks are appearing in its skin, scarlet spattering the once-sparkling white floor…_

_"You did this to me." The agonised voice…it's a boy's and I don't fraternise with boys, Papa doesn't allow it, but some long-gone part of me **recognises **it…_

"**AYDEN!"**

_And that's when everything comes flooding back. The puppet that shows me now, my true self, just looks resentful, its crystal eyes identical to mine through the mirror as it takes me back to things forgotten, but never truly. The Capitol doesn't let you forget for long, even in your stupor of drink or morphling or psychosis and denial. You can never escape once your name is called._

_That's the nature of the Hunger Games._

* * *

><p><em>"<strong>Niemi Vyne, 13!"<strong>_

_Every step's agony as I drag myself up those foreshadowing steps with my last shred of energy. Burning tears sting my grass-green eyes but I angrily push them down. I don't want to die like all the other Eights; dying is the **worst **thing that could possibly happen. So I will do anything possible to make my victory real…_

_"…**Ayden Silva, 14!"**_

_Except that._

* * *

><p><em>Standing next to my childhood best friend above the hysterical crowd of blinded citizens, grimacing at my costume made of crude patchwork fabric. Sponsors will be scarce for Eight in the 42nd Hunger Games. I cynically observe with bored green eyes, and silence is prevalent until a single, perfect sentence;<em>

_"**I think you look beautiful, Mimi."**_

_Suddenly sponsors no longer matter as he blushes pink and turns away. I'm not in the Hunger Games alone; I'm in the Hunger Games with **Ayden. **And for the life of me I don't know whether that's a blessing or a curse._

* * *

><p><em>Clenching my teeth in pain as a brutal Career snatches my beloved ring, my token, and throws it into the dust, treading on it, breaking it, whacking it with his training axe for good measure. My lost mama's ring. <strong>"You're good enough to be one of us, but you'll have to leave everything else behind."<strong>_

_Blinded by desperation, I agree, briefly unaware of Ayden's troubled blue eyes linking with my hopeful green ones._

_Forgive me, Mama, but I'm not ready to join you yet…death is the worst thing that could happen to me right now and I'm determined I'll live._

* * *

><p><em>"<strong>Let the 42<strong>**nd**** Hunger Games Begin!"**_

_Running. Running. Running. Why am I running? I've forgotten my purpose, I just know that my legs have to keep pumping until I reach the glimmering gold. Some ulterior motive is directing me like a puppeteer pulling my strings._

_"Grab axe. Swing axe left. Duck. Pick up knife. Swipe knife. Axe to right. Jump! Run left! Axe left, sprint right, throw knife east, left, right, left, right, left, right…"_

_It's only when I finally come out of my trance that I see six dead bodies on the ground, scarlet on my hands and on my face and staining my hopeful green eyes which are now slowly dying as I make the correlation._

_"**Now that was impressive." **_

_I ignore the congratulations of these sick-minded people and frantically ask about Ayden's whereabouts, but nobody knows. Baited breath as the thirteen faces hit the sky; they skip straight from Five to Nine, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding._

_Cassi Night. Lowe Partake. Isle Further. Platinum Woode. Shoal Kyre. Bespoke Raye._

_Six hearts that beat and minds that thought and dreamt and smiles that lit up rooms…all gone! Me! I just killed six innocent people! I feel a part of my heart wither and die._

_Ayden would hate me._

* * *

><p><em>Final ten and miraculously me and Ayden are both still breathing. I've abstained from killing any more and nobody minds since I killed almost half of the bloodbaths. The Careers and the mutts are gradually finishing off everyone, and both the Sevens are loving the forest arena-but not for long.<em>

_My ally from Two, Dement Winter, finds the person who killed his district partner, Cryst. He tears his limbs from his body; his features from his face, laughing maniacally as he plunges the blade everywhere, almost playing as the screams ring out, impaling his arms with arrows and shuriken but he won't let him die… and **so much scarlet-**I didn't know it was possible for that much crimson livelihood to pour from this screaming, almost lifeless form. Every stab with the knife stabs my soul so an unreachable agony spreads over me, mutilating me irreparably from the inside until his cannon goes off but the **knife keeps stabbing…**_

_**I was wrong. The worst thing that can happen isn't death-it's when your body continues to breathe when your soul's cannon has long since rang and disappeared into the now-still air.**_

* * *

><p><em>Running, running, running, and I don't even have an ulterior purpose now because I have no idea where Ayden is, I just know that some force beyond my control is directing my lifeless body along a path to something different than just running forever.<em>

_"**MIMI!"**_

_My heart stops. That's Ayden's voice, I know it. I run like my life depends on it, and a mutt is bent over Ayden, gnashing his teeth…I string my bow and aim it hysterically, but somehow it hits the neck and the jaguar mutt crashes to the floor._

_I frantically check over Ayden but thankfully he's just got a few cuts and bruises and is shaken up. But I thought I'd lost him, that I'd have to watch him die-and that's when it hits-how I'd feel if Ayden died…_

_He's not just my best friend._

_I think…I know. I'm in love with Ayden Silva._

_Without hesitating, I crouch next to him and gently press my lips to his. He closes his eyes and murmurs contentment and it's not perfect because I can taste blood on his lips and we're both scared out of our minds and at least one of us is most likely going to die tomorrow but we have here and now and we aren't going to waste it._

_"**I love you, Mimi."**_

_At those whispered words, the small part of me that wasn't killed by watching Dement torture the boy from 7 to death reawakens. I'm still alive, and I have a reason to smile. That's as good as it's going to get. I'm ready to die now, for Ayden to live._

_As I kiss Ayden again and lay a hand gently on his chest, I send a last prayer to whatever authority exists outside Panem, if anything does exist outside Panem. One more night of freedom before I die. Just one night without pain._

* * *

><p><em>"<strong>Well done, Ayden Silva, Dement Winter, Niemi Vyne and Katriona Foil, the final four of the 42<strong>**nd**** Hunger Games! We have decided on a new addition to this Hunger Games-a feast! Please come to the Cornucopia immediately."**_

_I smile as Ayden sleepily cracks his eyes open, then smiles beautifully at me. I blush slightly after what we…**did **last night, and then my thoughts turn to other matters. I don't know what this 'feast' consists of, but I do know our arena is only one massive forest with a few mutts here and there, fairly uninspiring. The public will be complaining these Games are boring._

_**The Gamemakers will not tolerate low ratings.**_

_I slap Ayden awake, adrenaline taking over, and we run to the Cornucopia as fast as we can after seeing the unmistakeable red glow of mutt eyes through the trees. Eventually we meet the sparkle of gold, and the other two tributes-Dement, who is cackling maniacally and licking blood off his hands, and Katriona, a sly-looking girl who I think is from Nine and must have gotten this far on her smarts._

_But now, we're going to have to fight._

_"**Tributes! You are now trapped in this clearing until a victor is declared! Anyone who tries to leave will instantly be euthanised by the muttations! May the best tribute win!"**_

_That won't be me._

_Right off the bat, Dement lunges for Katriona who barely has time to scream her last before the spear pierces her ribcage and enters her still heart. Ayden is holding a knife, but he clearly seems unable to kill Dement. Shaking, I guide Ayden's hand as the knife soars into Dement's neck, and he freezes in the middle of drinking Katriona's blood, and I swear a look of almost…**peace **flits across his face before his death rattles the air._

_Then I realise what I've done. It's Ayden and me now. Thank goodness! Now I can save Ayden and die quickly and painlessly when I ask him to._

_"**Ayden, kill me." **_

_His pupils widen in shock. **"No. I won't let you die, Mimi! I loved you first, so I should be the one to die for you."**_

_I roll my eyes, even in this incredibly serious moment. He's trying to save me when he has no idea I'm almost dead already, and I **want **the darkness. But I just can't bring myself to die slowly and painfully by the mutts._

_"**Well, I'm not killing you either, so I guess it's stalemate."**_

_Stalemate. The only thing you can do in stalemate is make an offer to the other side. I glare into the sky from where our faceless, cruel tormentors sit and laugh with glee, clench my teeth, and start talking to them._

_"**Hello, Gamemakers. Well, you've reached your final two. I hope you're happy that you just killed 22 innocent children-yes; even Dement was innocent before you got your hands on him. I hate you all. So kill me now, because I'm already dead and Ayden doesn't realise. Our lives are in your hands now, so, you cruel, horrific tormentors, end my life now, and make it quick, or every rebel in the Districts will remember my dying screams and it will spur them on."**_

_I would pay for that._

_A booming, laughing voice with a steely undertone of rage answers me unexpectedly. **"Very well, Miss Niemi. We will end your stalemate for you."**_

_I close my eyes, satisfied, and wait for the tracker in my arm to emit the poison that will attach to my veins and kill me in less than sixty seconds. But I don't feel anything. Am I dead already? No, I can still see through my olive, freckled arms._

_My blood freezes to ice as an agonised scream hits the air. **Ayden.**_

_"**AYDEN!" **I sprint over to the boy I love, who is sweating and moaning in agony and I can see the green trail spreading up his arm. **Poison. **Those bastards-I spoke out against them and **this **is their revenge? Killing me but forcing me to keep breathing at the same time?_

_"**Stay with me, baby, stay with me…" **I'm sobbing uncontrollably as I hold his hands, which are getting colder, and kiss his shaking lips as his blue eyes go unfocussed._

_"**M-Mimi…I love…you…don't worry…I wanted this…" **_

_"**I DIDN'T! I was meant to die! It was meant to be me!"**_

_"**Nothing…works out…like we want it to…that's the Hunger Games…Mimi."** And with his final sentiment Ayden takes his last ragged breath and his cannon booms._

_This isn't real…_

_I curl up into a ball as the trumpets announce my victory, and scream like nothing on Earth as I feel the last tormented shred of my soul give up and die._

_So why does my heart continue to beat, my eyes to see, my limbs to move?_

_**Because they've turned you into their puppet, Mimi.**_

* * *

><p><em>The Peacekeepers handle me roughly, slapping me about as they rip me from the hovercraft. I expect as such; I did insult the Capitol, and now I imagine they're going to execute me in private. At least I'll finally be allowed to join Ayden again.<em>

_Was it really just ten minutes ago that he breathed his last? It seems so long…I stare, comforted, at the numerous imperfect scars that decorate my skin. They're all that keeps me tethered to the arena, to Ayden, to sanity and also to pain._

_Pain is the only thing that can be trusted._

_They take me to a white room, white bed, white walls, colourless people, and hook me up to a drip. Poison, I sigh contentedly, as I drift to sleep…and try to let the darkness embrace me, but Ayden always just stays a step out of reach…_

* * *

><p><em>I wake up screaming as Dement rips the heart from the boy's chest cavity and bites into it like it were a strawberry peppermint…there's a mirror in front of the bed, and staring at me from it is a total stranger. It wasn't poison! I'm still alive! How <strong>could <strong>they? _

_The hair like tangled fire is now a perfect sheet of red-streaked blonde; the freckles have all been cleared, as have been…the scars! Where are my scars?_

_W-wait, what? Those scars were the only thing keeping me in the arena…without them…how do I even know it all happened? It can't have happened if I don't have the scars…_

_A name bounces around my skull, and I try to reach for it and catch it…I think it begins with A…but I don't recognise it, why would I? And what's this about an arena?_

_Wait. Try to remember things about yourself. That'll help keep you tethered._

_My name is Mimi Vyne…for some reason 'Mimi' sends a shot of pain up my spine. Okay, I'm not Mimi. I'm Niemi. It sounds more sophisticated anyway, makes me sound much older than twelve._

_I'm twelve years old and I live at home with my Papa, Step-Mama and little brother Paddy. I have olive skin with freckles…wait, no freckles and my eyes, they're green, and hopeful. Right?_

_I stare into the mirror for confirmation. **Wrong. **Instead of the hopeful green eyes I always swore would be the part of me I never changed, I have clear, colourless crystals that sparkle rainbow when they hit the light._

_Oh well, these are so much prettier._

_And just as I think that, the rest of me slips away._

* * *

><p><em>They take me back home from the Capitol. I still don't remember why I was there or why the cameras were flashing or who this 'Ayden' is (I don't fraternise with boys; Papa says it's dirty), but I give them a cordial smile as I leave this train and all the strange-coloured people with clear crystal eyes like mine depart, leaving me to open the door to my home.<em>

_Scarlet…_

_So much scarlet…_

_Papa is lying, spread-eagled in a pool of scarlet near the door. Curious, I look at him and his eyes are closed. He must be sleepy! Giggling, I leave him alone to nap and see Kate, my Step-Mama, eyes open in shock in the same pool of scarlet a little further away._

_Up the stairs, and in front of my room is a trail of scarlet. Inside, there's a boy I don't recognise, who's been carved to bits, his organs trailing out on the floor, leading up to my pretty pink bed, staining it red. The body looks a bit like Paddy, but it can't be Paddy because it's not real, it's just my precocious imagination again._

_I open the palpable letter on my bedside table, with a pleasant swirly scrawl. The message is short._

_**Dear Miss Niemi 'Mimi' Vyne,**_

_**Consider this a warning.**_

_**P.C.S.**_

_**P.S. Congratulations on your victory. The Gamemakers are pleased.**_

_Screams rattle the walls of the house and I don't know where they come from as I float in the pool of scarlet which reminds me heavily of something that's just hiding from the corners of my vaguely sane memory. The letter disappears into thin air, making me question its existence at all. But then it's back, and I'm so confused..._

_Floating…floating away, and I hope I'll never be back but I know I can never truly stay away. Not when the puppets are pulling our strings._

* * *

><p>Every morning, twelve-year-old Niemi Vyne wakes up in the Victor's Village house she lives in alone. (She's been twelve years old for about thirty years but nobody asks any questions.) She smiles absently at the three scarlet stains on the carpet-they've become almost comforts, almost friends to her.<p>

**(The three bodies that were the strange figments of her precocious mind disappeared quite quickly. She hasn't seen Papa or Step-Mama or Paddy in a while, but it's OK, they'll get back from their fishing trip soon.)**

The lifeless puppet that she occasionally sees is getting fainter and more ghostly. She hopes that soon enough the puppet with the crystal eyes will disappear and only Niemi will be left. The crystal used to reflect pretty rainbows but now the light has dulled and it's like staring through plastic-it warps your view.

**(She's careful not to blink.)**

Occasionally, she'll get memories that don't belong to her, and they're so disconcerting that she screams and the only way to stop those haunting spectres from dying repeatedly in front of her eyes (after all, death is the worst thing that can happen) she'll grab the shiny metal blade and make scarlet that matches the carpet flow, and she'll laugh happily because the scars are reaching a certain pattern that reminds her of…never mind.

**(Because, of course, mirrors lie. People lie. Crystal lies. Only pain can be trusted.)**

And as for me? I'm drifting in a world halfway between shadows and light, slowly drifting towards shadows, to where a boy called Ayden who I'm getting to know better with every step holds out both hands and tries to reach me. I'm the puppet with broken strings, and soon they'll finally get tired of me and let the shadows take me.

**(I've tried reaching out with my cloth fingers but it never seems to work, at least not yet.)**

Once in a while, I'll drop in on Niemi and see how she's getting along. She's happy, for the most part, and that's the best I can give her. Soon I'll be gone and she'll live in that abandoned house in the Victor's Village forever. The girl with the red-blonde hair and olive skin and…

…I think, once, before time ceased to matter, that her eyes were green.

**(But I couldn't be sure.)**


End file.
